


How Much Sorrow Can I Take

by footprintsinthesnow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Break Up, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Misunderstandings, Sexuality, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29480910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footprintsinthesnow/pseuds/footprintsinthesnow
Summary: When Akaashi's relationship falls apart, it becomes harder and harder to ignore an important truth about himself.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	How Much Sorrow Can I Take

Akaashi was supposed to be enjoying this. Any other boy his age would be ecstatic to be making out with a girl like Emiko - who seemed to be having the time of her life, if the way her hips suddenly bucked up into his own were any indication. He held back a wince as she thrusted against him again. Even with his jeans still on, this sort of closeness meant no longer being able to hide his clear lack of arousal. Swallowing his anxiety down, he kissed her harder, tongue brushing her lips, and made an experimental noise of feigned pleasure as her nails scraped along the bare flank of his back.

“Keiji,” she sighed, pulling back just long enough to meet his gaze. Something about the soft glint in her eyes made the anxiety want to spill over, entirely out of his control. “Touch me? Please?”

“I…” he squeaked. “I am touching you, aren’t I?”

Almost instantaneously, the softness left her eyes and she slipped out from under him. He watched as she settled on the edge of the bed, tugging her shirt back over her head. Quietly, he reached for his own, turning the fabric over in his hands for a moment before slipping it on. 

“Are we ever going to do anything?” she asked. 

He squirmed. Surely nothing he said would be the right answer, so he offered a weak “We do things.”

Her eyes closed, heavy and tired, and her lips drew together in a tight line.

“I, um, I touched your breasts the way you like.”

“Yeah, you did.”

"Was it good?"

"Yeah, it was."

“Then what’s wrong?” he said, the pitch of his voice climbing far higher than he would have liked. “It was good, so can’t we just go back to what we were doing?”

“Listen, it’s just… we’ve been together for almost a year now. Most of my friends have gone all the way with their boyfriends, and they’ve been together for, like, nowhere near that long. They think something’s wrong with you.”

His stomach churned uncomfortably. “You talk to your friends about us?”

“Well, yeah,” she replied, shrugging in a way that was too nonchalant for how her voice bristled. “Don’t you and your friend from volleyball talk about that stuff?”

“His name is Bokuto,” Akaashi murmured insistently, as if telling an increasingly angry Emiko his name would somehow make this conversation go away.

She shot him a look. “That’s not what I asked.”

“No, we don’t talk about these things. He doesn’t have a girlfriend, and I don’t like to tell him about what we do together. I thought these things should be private.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s much to share,” she said, giving him a look that he was sure would kill him, if such a thing were possible.

“Emiko.”

“Keiji,” she started, her expression shifting into something more indecipherable, “don’t you ever think about me the way I think about you? Do you ever want to do more than this?”

His heart plunged into his gut, sitting hard and heavy and anchoring him to the bed. Running from this conversation was something he had come to excel in over the last several months, but now his luck had run out. She had trapped him here, in her suddenly too warm bedroom, in a cage with pastel pink walls and a seemingly endless number of photos of the two of them. He stared at her, heart violently aching and threatening to beat straight out of his thoracic cavity - if it didn’t simply stop and kill him first.

He met her eyes for the first time in what must have been at least a minute. There were tears falling down her cheeks, leaving glistening trails behind them. 

“Keiji,” she sniffed, “I really love you. Don’t you love me too?”

“Emiko, I… of course I do.”

She bit down on her lip, the tears falling a little harder now. “You know, I think it would be better for both of us if you just stopped.”

“Stopped?”

“Yeah. You don’t need to pretend anymore, okay? Just go home, please.”

“Are we -”

“I don’t think you should be my boyfriend anymore, alright?” she snapped, hands curling into fists at her sides. “Please, just get out before my parents get home.”

He stood up from the bed, then leaned down. Emiko’s eyes followed him as he reached for and held her bra out to her.

“You should, um, probably also put this back on before they get home.”

With a wordless grimace, she snatched it away and closed the door after him as he stepped out of her room, laying the final brick in the wall between them. That was fine. Akaashi didn’t need, or particularly want, her to walk him out. He knew his way around her house well enough at this point, and any more time spent together was bound to be unpleasant for both of them. At the door he put on his shoes quickly, neglecting to tie the laces tightly enough, and hurried out into the cool autumn air. 

\----

His parents were, predictably, disappointed about his breakup with Emiko. Also predictably, they were more disappointed than they had been over his breakups with Setsuko or Yuzuki. His parents had liked Emiko very much. She was, according to them, the kind of girl he needed to marry and mother his children. She was smart, beautiful, and respectful, the perfect balance of ambitious and traditional. 

On an objective level, Akaashi could agree with them. Emiko was, on paper, a wonderful girl. The kind of girl that any boy would dream of spending the rest of his life with. He knew that he should be thrilled to be the one to have her. He knew that when they first started talking, when they went on dates, when they kissed, when they met each other’s parents, when they became more intimate. 

The problem, he had quickly discovered, was that knowing something should be true didn’t necessarily mean that it was true. And wanting to spend the rest of his life with Emiko, or any of the girls he had dated, was simply not a truth for him. Dating them felt like living out someone else’s truth, one that he wanted to be his own. It was safe, but it never made him happy. 

He supposed that, in a situation like his, being safe was smarter than being happy. 

Once his parents had finished their talk - which had gone on for much longer than he felt was warranted and had lacked any of the comfort that a post-breakup talk required - he climbed up the stairs to his room and threw his bag and phone down in the corner by his dresser. He undressed, trading his jeans and sweater for pajamas. He hadn’t showered today, but he supposed it could wait until tomorrow. It was the weekend, after all. There was no one to see him and judge him for being a little greasy. 

In the corner, his phone buzzed. Tentatively, he picked it up only to find four new messages from Bokuto; relief flooded his body. 

_AKAAAAAASHIIIIIIIII_  
_you said i couldnt do it but i did look_

These were followed by a photo of Bokuto’s mouth crammed full with what appeared to be marshmallows, the jumbo ones that he insisted were better than the regular ones. Akaashi let out a huff of laughter. 

_8!!!! 8 marshmallows!!!!!!!! i told you i could beat my record :))))_

Laying down on the bed, Akaashi typed out a quick _That’s very exciting, Bokuto-san_

Seconds later, his phone buzzed again. 

_arent you you proud of me akaashi???_

_Very much_

_kuroo helped me get the last one in my mouth_  
_for a second i thought i would choke_  
_but i didnt!!_

Akaashi elected to ignore the disagreeable constriction in his chest at the mere mention of Kuroo’s name, and how it tightened its hold at the idea of Kuroo working a marshmallow into Bokuto’s tightly stuffed mouth. He also elected to ignore an entirely different constricting feeling lower in his body, one that seemed quite interested in just how much Bokuto could fit in his mouth. He would most definitely continue to ignore that feeling. 

Instead, he sent: _You should be more careful Bokuto-san, I swear that you and Kuroo will be the death of each other_

 _akaaashiiiiiiiiii :((_  
_did you have a bad day_  
_you arent celebrating with me_

Akaashi wasn’t entirely sure what about him would suggest an interest in celebrating something like this, but Bokuto wasn’t wrong. 

_You’re right, Bokuto-san, today was not very good_

_I KNEW IT!!!_  
_wait oh no what happened :((_

_Emiko and I broke up_

This time, Bokuto’s response took considerably longer. Akaashi watched him type for a few minutes before a simple _are you okay?_ presented itself on the screen.

_I don’t know_

_are you sad?_

_I think so_

_what happened?_

He began to type something before hesitating and quickly deleting it. The real answer was something complicated and painful, located between the lines of his final conversation with Emiko. He wondered if Emiko knew the real answer, too, or if she had been content to accept the somewhat more digestible lie of just not being ready for the same things. 

_We realized that we were not on the same page, I think_  
_And I could not make her happy anymore_  
_She deserves someone who can give her what she needs_

It was vague, almost annoyingly generic, but at least it wasn’t a complete lie. 

_akaashi you need to be nicer to yourself!!!!!_  
_you could make ANYONE happy because youre the best_  
_emiko is wrong_

For the first time that night, Akaashi felt the sting of tears. He drew in a sharp breath and willed them to stay put. 

_No_  
_She wasn’t wrong_  
_I wish she was wrong_

A vibration in his hand directed him toward the screen, where Bokuto had sent a gif of two little bears hugging, one apparently comforting the other. 

_if what you had wasnt enough then you deserve someone who wants those things_  
_emiko isnt the only girl in the world_  
_lots of them will like all the things about you!!!_

Akaashi was crying now - as much as he hated it, no amount of self-control could help him hold it back. He was thankful that Bokuto couldn’t see him, or the way his hands shook as he began to type again.

_If I told you something important, Bokuto-san, would you keep it a secret?_

Bokuto replied with a shockingly restrained _of course!_

_I’m gay_

The next minute felt impossibly long, and Akaashi cursed the inability to delete a message that had already been sent. 

_thank you for telling me akaashi_  
_you are still the same akaashi to me_  
_your secret is safe with me_

 _Thank you, Bokuto-san_  
_I am very tired, so I’m going to sleep now_  
_Goodnight_  
_I’ll see you on Monday_

_goodnight akaaashiiiiiiiiii :))_

\----

For the first time since Akaashi joined the team, Monday’s morning practice felt like a relief. It forced him out of a haze of fear, self-loathing, and worry, and placed him right back into a predictable world where he was the public’s version of Akaashi Keiji - model student, starting setter, and, for all intents and purposes, heterosexual man. Whatever insanity had compelled him to tell Bokuto the truth didn’t matter here. Standing in the early morning light outside the gym, listening to the birds chirp and the wind blow, he was free to move on and pretend that nothing had happened. 

He opened the gym door to the familiar sight of Konoha and Bokuto setting up the net. Yukie and Kaori organized some papers by the benches. Some of the other boys idly stretched and tossed a volleyball around. He joined them, quietly seating himself by Komi and fitting seamlessly into the flow of their pre-practice routine. He pulled his legs into himself to stretch his groin and scanned the gym for Bokuto, who had finished setting up the net and settled into an enthusiastic conversation with the managers. 

Practice came and went, uneventful, and Akaashi migrated to the showers with the rest of the team to clean up before school. He stripped away the sweaty clothes that clung to his skin, removing them without a single thought - until he was interrupted by Bokuto tapping his shoulder with urgency. Suddenly, he was excruciatingly aware that he was in nothing but his underwear, with his friend standing only inches away. His face flushed, hot and undoubtedly red. 

“Bokuto-san,” he greeted. 

Bokuto didn’t respond, instead opting to rock on balls of his feet, face twisted into an uncertain expression. His arms were partially obscured by his back, his hands surely clasped together. 

“Are you okay, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral in the face of this strange silence.

As if a switch had been flipped, Bokuto nodded excitedly and ceased his rocking. “I’m great, Akaashi!”

“I’m glad to hear that. I was about to shower - did you need something?”

His brows knitted. “Nope, I don’t need anything. I just wanted to say hi.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Akaashi said, grabbing soap from his locker. “Hello to you, as well.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto said after a few seconds, voice lowering into a conspiratorial tone that Akaashi knew all too well. “Is everything okay with,” he looked around for onlookers, then continued, “you know, what you told me?”

Akaashi bit his lip. “I’m fine. Let’s not talk about this right now, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, looking vaguely disappointed. 

“You should go shower, too. You remember what happened last time you forgot.”

The reminder snapped Bokuto out of his seriousness, and he waved his arms in horror as he squawked out the story of how Haruka-san had told him he smelled worse than the dumpster behind the school. That day had done quite a number on Bokuto’s self-esteem, and the mere recollection was enough to make him scurry away toward the showers. 

Alone again, Akaashi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Slowly, shakily, he went to a shower stall far away from the one Bokuto occupied, and allowed himself to go numb as the searingly hot water ran over his skin. 

\----

Two weeks passed. 

Bokuto had tried again and again to get a read on him, and Akaashi had shut him down each time with a stern insistence that he was fine. Besides, there was really no reason for Bokuto to be as concerned as he was. No one else seemed even remotely aware of what Akaashi was going through, and that surely meant he was projecting a successful image of “fine” into the world. Even his parents seemed thoroughly convinced that he was fine. Each night they had their usual conversations over dinner, and he retreated to his room afterward without any lingering questions or concerns. The fact that Bokuto kept trying to break through that barrier was, to put it bluntly, frustrating.

Yet, part of him, some carefully hidden part of him that he tried so hard to ignore, felt a deep, coiling warmth over Bokuto’s concern. To know that so much of his mental space was preoccupied by Akaashi’s wellbeing made him feel something he didn’t fully understand. Being known, Akaashi had found, was often terrifying. But this was new and different. Bokuto knew him now in a way that no one else in the world did, and it was something that went beyond Akaashi’s capacity for language. In the most simple terms his brain could muster, it was beautiful to be known like this. Scary, but so beautiful. 

\----

Akaashi’s parents were out of town on business, leaving him alone for the week. And, of course, within an hour of telling Bokuto-san, he had shown up at Akaashi’s front door with snacks, a worryingly large stack of DVDs, and what was evidently an overnight bag.

“You’ll get lonely by yourself, Akaashi,” Bokuto-san remarked as he flung himself onto the sofa. 

“I think you’re talking about yourself,” he replied, gently setting himself in the small space that Bokuto had left unoccupied. “I quite like having time to myself.”

“Akaashi,” he whined, dragging out his name as far as it would go. “I came all this way to see you and now you’re being mean to me.”

Akaashi held back a grin. “Well, you did come over uninvited.”

“I had to! You wouldn’t have asked me. And what would you have done if someone broke in, or if you choked on your food? There wouldn’t be anyone around to save you,” Bokuto-san explained with a pout. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right about that, Bokuto. I can’t say that I know how to do the Heimlich on myself, so in that case it was very thoughtful of you to visit me. Now, what are we watching first?”

Bokuto-san rolled to face the television with a bright smile lighting up his face. “We’re watching Ratatouille,” he said, words brimming with excitement. 

“Again?” Akaashi teased. 

Wide eyes looked up at Akaashi. “Yes, again! The rat controls him and they become friends, Akaashi, it’s funny.”

“I can’t argue with that, I guess. Pass me the chips, will you?”

The first half of the movie passed in relative silence, with only Bokuto’s deep belly laughs and Akaashi’s soft chuckles to consistently break up the quiet. Once or twice, Bokuto said something about how silly Linguini and Remy were, but Akaashi had only responded with soft noises of agreement. All in all, it was surprisingly peaceful.

Then, Linguini and Colette kissed. 

Beside him, Bokuto started fidgeting in apparent discomfort, as though the sofa had turned into a bed of rocks. 

“Akaashi,” he whispered. 

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Did you and Emiko kiss like that?”

Akaashi’s breath hitched and he reached for the remote to pause the movie. “Why are you asking me this?” he said, heart throbbing with each word. 

Bokuto shrugged.

“Uh, yes. We did kiss.”

“Did you like kissing her?”

“I… I don’t…”

“I was just wondering,” he said. “I’ve never kissed anyone, so I don’t know what it’s like.”

“Well. I liked to kiss her when I could pretend it wasn’t her.” Akaashi said, careful to focus his gaze straight ahead. His voice wobbled with uncertainty, “I liked to kiss her when I could pretend I was kissing a… you know.”

Bokuto nodded. “Can I ask another question, Akaashi?”

He didn’t respond, knowing Bokuto would take his silence as an affirmative. 

“Have you ever kissed a boy?”

Akaashi shook his head. 

“Do you think you ever will?”

“I thought we agreed to one more question.”

“Akaashi.”

He picked at the skin of his fingers. “I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Akaashi sighed, “I’m not supposed to do that.”

“Why?”

“Bokuto-san,” he said, shoulders slumping forward. “You know why.”

“You shouldn’t worry about people judging you,” Bokuto said. Akaashi had to bite back a sharp laugh - that was a piece of advice that Bokuto-san himself had yet to put into practice, but now wasn’t the time for that conversation. 

“How am I supposed to not care about what other people think when their opinions could affect my entire life?”

“I just think it’s more important for you to be happy.”

“Well, I certainly won’t be happy if I can’t find or keep a job, or if my family and friends push me away, or if people around me want to hurt me just for being myself,” he said bitterly. 

Bokuto rolled around on the sofa again. “My mom always says that people who don’t accept you for you aren’t worth your time. And I think you should want to be around people who think it’s okay for you to kiss boys.”

“Unfortunately, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi began, “this isn’t about what you think. This is about what I think is best for me.”

Beside him, Bokuto sat up, frustration visible in every feature. “Well, I think you’re wrong, Akaashi.”

Akaashi paused for a moment. It was incredibly rare for Bokuto to disagree with him like this. Normally, what Akaashi said was gospel. If it left his mouth, it had to be nothing less than the truth. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi warned. 

“No,” he said, volume increasing. “You’re being stupid.”

“I am not, please quiet down.”

“No. Everyone always tells me I’m stupid, and that you’re my smart friend, but I think you’re the stupid one. Because at least I’ll always be honest with myself and do what makes me happy.”

“What are you trying to get at, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked, annoyance growing in his gut. 

“I think you’re… homo… homophobic. I looked that one up the other day, because you make me stop talking everytime I try to talk about what you told me. I think you’re scared of gay people, even yourself. And I don’t think people like that are very nice.”

“So, what, did you come over here just to tell me this?” Akaashi spat. 

“No, I came over here because you’re my friend and I care about you.”

“If you were my friend, you would respect that I’m not comfortable being out, or explaining myself to you,” he hissed. “I don’t understand why you care so damn much about my sexuality, anyway. You think I’m homophobic? Why the hell does that even matter to you, it’s not like it even affects you. Fuck. I don’t even know why I told you in the first place, I should have known you would make it into a big deal.”

Bokuto looked as though Akaashi had slapped him. “You regret telling me?”

“Yes, I do. I told myself I would never tell anyone, and I should have kept to that.”

“Fine,” Bokuto said, lower lip shaking as he stood up to collect his things. “I think I’m going to go home. Or maybe to Kuroo’s. I don’t know.”

“Great. Go home. Or go to Kuroo’s. I never asked you to come here.”

Muttering something that Akaashi couldn’t understand, Bokuto grabbed the last of his belongings and stormed toward the door, slamming it behind him. The house fell into a suffocating stillness. For all of his claims of loving solitude, Akaashi couldn’t decide if he was glad to be alone after all. 

\----

It took an entire week for Bokuto to willingly approach him again. “Akaashi,” he said. “Will you meet me by the athletic field after school?”

Akaashi nodded, mouth gaping in surprise, before Bokuto walked away. 

Later that afternoon, he found Bokuto sitting on a bench by the field. It was empty today, thankfully. If this conversation were to be anything like their last one, he didn’t want anyone around to bear witness. As he approached, Bokuto gave him a weak wave. This subdued version of Bokuto made him uncomfortable - he was a force of nature, meant to be loud and brash and unapologetic. This version looked decidedly broken, and Akaashi was the reason why. 

“Hey,” Akaashi said as he reached the bench. 

“Hey.”

“Can I sit?”

“Yeah.”

Akaashi sat, folding his hands neatly in his lap before beginning to pick at his fingers. 

“You hurt my feelings, Akaashi,” Bokuto said. 

“I know.”

“You were mean to me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Bokuto-san.”

“You’re never mean to me.”

“I… got scared.”

“Were you scared of me?”

“No, of course not. I could never be scared of you.”

Bokuto appeared to consider this for a moment, bobbing his head from side to side, before turning to Akaashi and asking “Would you be scared of me if I told you I like boys, too?”

Something inside Akaashi crumbled, and he felt the all too familiar sensation of tears gathering in his eyes. “You… you like boys, Bokuto-san?”

“Well, I like one boy,” Bokuto replied, squirming in his spot. “But yeah.”

“I see. And that’s why you were so upset with me for, well, everything?”

“Yeah.”

Akaashi took a deep breath. “I’m glad you told me.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“No.”

“And what if I wanted to tell people who I am? And didn’t want to hide it? Would you stop hanging out with me?”

“No, I don’t think I could stay away from you, Bokuto-san. This week was hard enough.”

Bokuto smiled, smaller than usual, but Akaashi considered it a start. “It was hard for me, too.”

“You make me very happy, I’ve realized. It would be stupid of me to let go of someone who makes me so happy.”

“You did learn something,” Bokuto exclaimed, beaming now. “I told you to do things that make you happy.”

“You did.”

“You make me happy, too, Akaashi.”

“Good,” Akaashi said, wiping his eyes.

“Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

“Can I tell you another secret?”

Akaashi raised his eyebrows. “Of course, Bokuto-san.”

“Okay,” Bokuto said, making a face that Akaashi recognized as the one he made during games when he needed to hype himself up for a particularly difficult play. “I think I’m ready to say it now.”

“I’m listening,” Akaashi promised. 

“Akaashi, I really like you. You’re the boy I like.”

“Oh,” he exhaled.

Bokuto looked at him, eyes wide and hopeful and full of something that Akaashi knew was love. It was the way Bokuto looked at a cute dog, or his favorite food, or a volleyball, but infinitely more intense and wanting. 

“Why me, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi said finally.

“Because you’re Akaashi,” Bokuto replied, matter of factly. “And Akaashi makes me happier than anyone or anything else. I’ve never liked anyone the way I like you.” 

So often, Bokuto’s simplicity was something that perplexed Akaashi. Akaashi’s brain operated in a perpetual state of overthinking. No thought was exempt from being torn apart, no idea was immune to being analyzed to exhaustion. Everything - school, volleyball, family, friends, the past, the present, the future - was subjected to his scrutiny. He had thought it entirely impossible that anyone would not work the same way he did, until he met Bokuto. Bokuto wore his heart on his sleeve, chased each whim and felt every feeling with an almost childish straightforwardness. He had no need for pretense, not like Akaashi. He was Bokuto, nothing more and nothing less, consequences be damned. It amazed Akaashi in a way he could never truly express. 

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, breaking through his thoughts. 

Akaashi swallowed heavily. “Bokuto-san.”

“I know you don’t want to be out, and that it scares you. That’s okay. You don’t have to feel the same, as long as you’ll keep being my friend.”

“Bokuto-san,” he repeated. 

Bokuto curled his lips in, shyly meeting Akaashi’s eyes. 

“I am afraid. But I think that’s alright.”

Bokuto blinked, confused. 

“You say to choose things because they make you happy, and, for that reason I’m choosing you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I choose you. I want to be brave, so I choose you, Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto squealed, wrapping his arms tightly around Akaashi. “Akaashi, Akaashi, Akaashi.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi laughed into Bokuto’s hair.

“You don’t have to be scared with me, Akaashi. Promise. I’m going to make you so happy.”

“I know, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi breathed. “I know.”

They left the field together, hands dangling at their sides. Bokuto promised to not do anything Akaashi might not be ready for, so he settled for lightly brushing Akaashi’s hand with his own and whispering excitedly about how the two of them got to keep the best secret in the whole world. Akaashi couldn’t argue with that. Keeping his secret alone had been painful, dark, almost unbearably lonely. With Bokuto, it would surely be better. For the first time in as long as Akaashi could remember, happiness felt like something tangible, something he could reach out and touch and call his own. 

He didn’t intend to let it go.

**Author's Note:**

> \- wow can you believe i managed to write again after... 7 months?  
> \- i really hope you like this! i love bokuaka and it's my first time writing for them  
> \- title from "mystery of love" by sufjan stevens  
> \- i'm on tumblr @lthawkeyess and @machi-kuragi


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